


Sleeping birds

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Community: kinkme_merlin, Fanfiction, Gangbang, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, POV Uther Pendragon, Power Play, Sexual Slavery, Uther Finds Out About Merlin's Magic, Uther Knows About Merlin's Magic, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is hurt. More than a gallant could bear, less than any other slave would have been. Merlin is composed of sharp angles, and each one can be a pleasure, meaning they are all weapons.</p><p>Uther understands the importance of washing his blades after a war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping birds

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: non-consensual sexual slavery, voyeurism, alcohol consumption, references to gang bang and magic-made-them-do-it Merlin/knights, hurt/comfort, and fingering.
> 
> Originally posted on Kink Me! Merlin [here](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/2045.html?thread=33333757#t33333757).

"You did well," Uther says as he enters his room. Merlin looks up from his slump over the table. "You might have saved those men's lives." It's true; their honours were on the line.  
  
Uther has stood by a hidden window and watched how savagely they took Merlin. Had they not been rounded up and secured as quickly, they could have attacked any lady and would need to be cast out. Those would have been great men to loose. Uther is grateful it didn't come to that.  
  
He imagines the knights might be too, when they wake free of enchantment.  
  
Merlin doesn't react to the praise, not even to make his usual noise of derision. For any other slave, this praise would be a grand event. It is not the first instance Uther has said something similar to Merlin though. It still happens less often than the number of times Merlin has stepped up to Uther and said, "I can help. Let me."  
  
Uther studies this quiet Merlin. The way he's leaning against a chair, his shifting stance, the damp hair along his temple, the colour of the bathwater he just finished washing with. The flushed knots of his fingers tracing the designs etched into Uther's furniture, the minute creases running across his knuckles.  
  
Merlin is hurt. More than a gallant could bear, less than any other slave would have been. Merlin is composed of sharp angles, and each one can be a pleasure, meaning they are all weapons.  
  
Uther understands the importance of washing his blades after a war. He crosses the room, fills a goblet with wine, removes his garments. "Sit on the bed."  
  
When Uther extends the wine to him, Merlin opens his mouth. He isn't foolish enough, or maybe just too tired, to reach for the drink himself.  
  
Uther press the cup to Merlin's full mouth, lets it rest there. He puts no weight on the cut at the corner of Merlin's mouth, barely scabbed. He strokes the skin beside it instead, presses a knuckle to Merlin's cheek. "Does it hurt to talk?"  
  
Merlin looks up at him, stare unyielding. Too direct for a slave, but Uther has not wanted to correct this for a long time now. "Not so much." Merlin's voice is raw. Uther raises an eyebrow. He remembers the rasps of Merlin's voice not an hour before. Merlin's lips acknowledge the blatant lie. "Yes."  
  
Uther nods, tilts the cup. He watches the wine dye Merlin's lower lip a shade darker. Merlin's throat bobs once, twice. Tendons slide under soft skin marred with bites, enticing and enthralling.  
  
Uther takes a few swallows as well, leaving some in the cup for later. He presses his free hand to Merlin's shoulder, encouraging him to turn over and bend. Merlin folds like a bird, wince almost unnoticeable.  
  
Uther hums, slides his hand up Merlin's back. Cups his nape, maps down his long spine. He catalogs abrasions and bruises, places torn and ones left intact. He scratches off leftover flecks of dried semen or floor dirt. For a long time, he lets Merlin settle into Uther's known touch and the quietness of the room.  
  
Uther's personal needs were satisfied while he watched earlier. Merlin's are scattered.  
  
Uther keeps a jar of salve by his bed. It is thick and pungent. It looks effective enough no one ever questioned Merlin's quick recoveries. Uther coats Merlin's injuries, hunts down each scrape. Merlin's eyes close.  
  
"Are you damaged inside?"  
  
Merlin shrugs.  
  
"I shall look."  
  
Merlin grunts, tucks his face into the covers. His hands come around to hold his arse cheeks open for Uther. Sleepiness often renders him obedient.  
  
Merlin's crack is flushed red, body hair mated by the bath. There are faint promises of future bruises near Merlin's hole. Uther wonders if there had been blood, from one place or another. Merlin has a vicious mouth.  
  
Uther knows Merlin keeps as clean as he can. Gaius made sure they knew the importance of this on the very day of Merlin's reassignment. They want to be certain this slave takes no ill effects from any of his encounters. After all, Uther intends to keep him for a long time.

Uther transfer some of the salve into his cup, thins it with the remaining wine. He tips his fingers into the mix, and slides them over Merlin's arse over and over, traces areas that look tender. He lightens his touch when nearing Merlin's hole, wets his fingers again to slide over the dip itself. It feels hot under his fingertips. He presses his intent over it, and it relaxes in invitation under his touch.  
  
Uther slips his middle finger in. Merlin's hole restricts over him, tries to pull him in deeper before pushing him out. Uther lets Merlin's body react as it will, whilst tracing Merlin's outer rim with his index finger, feeling for anything unusual. He compares Merlin's natural response to what he is used to.  
  
At two fingers, Merlin lets go of his arse cheeks. He grips the bedding instead. Uther twists his fingers deeper in Merlin.  
  
The slide is easy, helped along with leftover potion from Merlin's own preparations, before everything. Maybe some of his knight's essence as well, kept close and fresh inside. His flesh cushions Uther's fingers, working around them in healthy reflex.  
  
Uther removes his fingers, gets up and washes his hands in a basin. Puts his gloves and boots back on. He'll go check on his men now. Make certain their curse's demand was satisfied, that they suffer no more from it. With any hope, they won't remember no moment of it.  
  
On Uther's bed, Merlin sprawls asleep. He is discarded and free, in a way no person could be in a king's bed without questions being raised, but how an object might. Merlin's life depends on being disregarded as uninteresting. Nonthreatening. As soon as Uther noticed Merlin's potential, it became imperative to own him. Merlin might even understand.  
  
Uther locks the door behind him.


End file.
